Mad cap schemes.
Heels,
Slippery as eels.
They wheel
And deal
And no not what is real,
But in sober moments,
When the lights go out
And the party goers shout
Is no longer heard,
They see the fact of the matter,
– Broken dreams can not shatter
A recently published study indicates that it is likely that dogs dream about their owners and that large dogs dream for longer than smaller canines.
The results of this study do not surprise me. I am now working with my fourth guide dog and have, from a young age grown up around dogs. Dogs wag their tails and perform other activities, such as running, growling or yelping while asleep. It is therefore logical (to my mind at least) to assume that our four-legged friends can (and do) dream. Anyone who has grown up around dogs will have observed them growling while asleep which indicates that they (like us) also experience nightmares.
http://www.themonitordaily.com/dogs-dream-owners-study-says/212676/
Shimmering
In chiffon.
In fabric sheer
She passes near
Then is gone.
Shadows on the wall
I recall.
One can not catch a shade
For it is made
Of moonbeams
And passing dreams.
Truth hides
Away
In the day
And slides
Out in dreams
When all seems
Real.
Dreams reveal
Our fears, often in a jumble,
A veritable Tumble
Of confused
Images and thought.
The truth may momentarily be caught
For the dreamer to see,
But frequently wriggles free
As he awakes
And his desire for forgetfulness slakes
In Lethe.
—
Lether means oblivion In ancient greek and was one of the 5 rivers in Hades (the Greek underworld). When the dead drank from the waters of Lethe they would forget their former lives. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lethe.
If I died yet dreamed on
How would I know that I had gone?
Alone
At home
I sensed an intruder in my hall.
My mouth was dry
And I could not call
Out for help.
For his throat I felt
And smelt
A stench as of a thing long since deceased.
All grappling ceased
And through my fear
I recognised death
Standing near.
—
The above poem is based on a dream I dreamed several days ago. While dreaming, I was conscious of a profound sense of fear, heightened by the terrible stench emminating from the intruder in my home. However it was only on awakening that I recognised the presence as that of the angel of death.
Nightmare.
Terrors buried deep
Creep
Out and stare
Me full in the face.
There is no hiding place
When the black mare
Stirs
From the stable.
Her coat sable
As night.
Banishes delight.
Awaking.
Shaking
Off fear
Yet nightmare crouches near.
In the shadows she hides
And bides
Her time waiting for sleep
Then out she doth creep.
I turn and run
But my dark mistress must have her fun.
When day is done
She will come.
Once, as a child I grasped a thing in dream.
It did seem
That if I held it tight
This object of delight
Could be retained beyond the night.
On awaking, I put away my dream in a drawer
And can find it no more.
Where it did go
I do not know.
Yet I think of it from time to time
And lose myself in rhyme.
The restless wind
calls to the unquiet mind.
I see a swan upon a lake.
A serene
queen
she glides through the water
as some daughter
of the gods.
A man hidden in the reeds
scarcely breathes
for fear
she will notice him near.
The swan sings.
Her song brings
sweet melancholy to his soul.
The whole
scene
he dreamed
awakening to the restless wind
that calls to the unquiet mind.
It is horribly early.
I can not sleep.
A bird tweets.
No feet
upon the street.
Cars pass
lost in distance vast.
I could return to bed
but I am awake
and doubt that sleep will take
me back
to be stretched upon the rack
of nightmare
and despair.
Sleep is a fickle friend.
Oft she doth pretend
to soothe the troubled mind
but man doth frequently find
in her arms that bind
a maelstrom of emotion
an ocean
where many are tossed
and forever lost
K Morris - Poet 